Just Visiting
by SoTotallyOsm
Summary: To think it's been an entire year since their lives completely changed...
1. Malik

It had all happened too quickly. He remembered the sound of steel slicing leather and flesh, the sound of a surprised yelp cut off by gurgling blood from the mouth, and the sound of thick blood slopping to the dirt. It was all too familiar, too real even now that he remembered it. He barely remembered what happened right after the fact; he only knew it happened in blind anger, something a master assassin should never act upon. And it caused him to lose something more important than just a piece of himself. He lost his entire life, but no death greeted him.

After the incident in Solomon's Temple, Malik's life literally turned inside out. A blanket of darkness shrouded his heart, a void that would forever be empty. Nothing, no one, could take the special place in his heart for his brother Kadar. He lost his only blood family. It hurt. It hurt so much more than having his arm severed from his body, another piece of him that could never be replaced. Because he could no longer work as an efficient master assassin, he was promoted to the rank of Dai and took leadership over the bureau in Jerusalem. Still, his entire life had been dedicated to being an assassin and killing those who compromised the Brotherhood and Creed. To add salt to the wound, it was his closest friend who had caused it all.

It'd been nearly a year since it had happened. He'd requested to have his brother buried, and took care of all the expenses himself. The grave was on the outskirts of Masyaf, along the bend to the Kingdom and overlooked a cliff held high above the waters which surrounded it. The area was small and perhaps twenty feet from the actual cliff facing, but was kept clean by Malik himself and normally had a burning pot of incense left after every visit.

This visit was of particular importance to him. Malik knelt down onto the soft patch of grass growing over the grave, setting down a rather small incense pot next to the stone engraved with the assassin's crest. His usual ritual of lighting the incense, cleaning the area, and saying a short prayer followed suit.

Fingers gripped the grass, his head bowing and body tensing the slightest. His voice cracked as he spoke to himself, to his younger brother.

"Happy birthday, Kadar."


	2. Altair

It's been nearly a year now. An entire year since Kadar's death, one of his greatest regrets.

At first he'd pretended it was his greatest regret solely for the fact he returned to his Master empty handed. He'd failed a mission and cost the Brotherhood dearly. It was possibly the worst case scenario that happened in Solomon's Temple. It haunted him to this day.

If that damn Templar hadn't thrown him from the chamber, if those damned old tunnels hadn't collapsed in and blocked his path... He could have taken them all. He could have kept Malik and Kadar alive and in one piece, he could have taken out Robert de Sable, and he could have had all the glory for bringing home the most sought after treasure of its time. But no. Altair had failed, Kadar had died, Malik had lost his arm, and returned empty handed only to have Malik steal all the spotlight by handing over the Apple.

Not only that, he was stripped of his rank and reduced to a mere novice. It was shameful. He was the best assassin in the Brotherhood and HE was stripped of all rank. And it was Malik's fault. He was the one who grabbed him and caused him to falter, to be thrown like a mere rag doll. Malik shouldn't have been the one to return with all the glory.

So for months he despised the older man, once his best friend. He wasn't going to swallow his trampled pride and apologize for what wasn't his fault. Malik never helped the situation, always rubbing him the wrong way when they met and making his missions that much more difficult. Still, he managed to regain his rank and eventually did come to terms with what had happened. He eventually did swallow his pride and apologize, though Malik denied this and told him it was equally his fault. Although their regained friendship was rocky, it still meant something to both of them.

He'd seen how Malik had acted throughout the day. He'd been more sullen than usual, even though he usually was a downer when he was out to visit his brother's grave. Something seemed off this time, and he needed to find out what it was. If his spies couldn't bring him back any useful information, he'd just have to ask him himself later on.

When the Al-Sayr didn't give him a good enough reason, Altair decided he would take his own trip to visit the grave. Without the other knowing, naturally.

As Altair approached the site, he saw it had been thoroughly taken care of as usual by his friend. Nothing seemed too out of place, nothing really caught his eye. He stepped closer and stood in front of the stone, staring down at it. It was nearing sunset, and he really should head back to the fortress before nightfall. Lest Malik nag on him about leaving him to finish his work again without forewarning.

A light breeze came in from across the waters below the cliff, the grass swaying gently and his mount stomping at the ground behind him. Then all of a sudden his senses were bombarded with a familiar scent. The incense Malik must have left behind was different from the one he normally left, and now that it was brought to his attention he noticed the pot was tinier than the normal ones. How did he not notice before?

It wasn't that it was different, no... It was something else. His mind struggled to remember where he'd smelled such incense before. It was a common scent, he knew, because he had come across it in the markets plenty of times before. What was it..?

"Sandalwood..?" Altair muttered under his breath. His mind registered that he'd come across it in the markets of course, but also in Malik's bureau in Jerusalem when he would go there to do missions. It was rare that he would use it, but those times he did he could distinctly remember the older man being in a particularly solemn mood. Something was missing though. Some important piece of information was trying to avoid him, and he couldn't place his tongue on it. Why would he use this on Kadar's grave?

... Of course. It hit him at once. Malik used to buy this for his brother every year on his birthday because it was his favorite. Common and fairly inexpensive, he wouldn't have placed any real importance on it before. But young Kadar didn't know the difference and he just knew he liked that scent and would always tell his brother to light some before night time so that he could sleep better. That was back when the younger had nightmares, he remembered, so Malik started getting him a pot of it every year for his birthday.

He remembered being present for a few of Kadar's birthdays. He always noted how happy he was to get the same present every year and not much else, especially since Altair never really got him anything. It must have meant a lot to both Kadar and Malik, and Malik must have kept the tradition going even after...

"So that's it... Happy birthday, Kadar." Altair gave a ghost of a smirk before turning to return to Masyaf. If it would give Malik any solace, he would mention to him that he remembered.


End file.
